The Wager
by Marie Nomad
Summary: An author approved sequel to 'He Played The Game' by Student of Dreams. Dr. Watson has confronted the mysterious Mr. Holmes and somehow ended up making a gamble on his future that will change his life.


This is a sequel to the fan fic, "He Played The Game" by Student of Dreams. I recommend that you read that before you read this. The beginning will make a lot more sense.

The Wager

By Marie Nomad

I glared at Sherlock Holmes. How did he find out where I live? It does not matter. "Give me back my money and my cane!" I ordered as I towered over him.

He glanced at me looking confused. "Why should I? I worked hard for the money and this cane is quite excellent." He took out the sword and gazed at it. "Quite a weapon too."

"Give it back." I reached for my cane and Mr. Holmes just jumped out of the way, taunting me with his nimbleness. My wounds ached as I tried to catch him. He sheathed the sword and put it behind his back.

"How about a wager? A battle of wits. You win, I give back your money and your cane with another quid added on. I win, you will come with me to aide me in my case and I will do with the cane and money as I see fit."

"Wits?"

"A simple battle of deduction. Can you tell me more about me than what I can about you?"

This was quite tempting and so I agreed. As a doctor, I could deduce things quite well from other people. "Very well."

"So, deduce." He opened his arms and stared at me.

I looked him over carefully. "You have not eaten in at least a day." I grabbed his free hand. "You have calluses on your hands, most likely from fighting. You fight all the time because that man at the ring knew you by name. Your nose was broken at least once. You have bloodshot eyes and that means you have not slept on at least two days and are on some sort of drug."

"Not bad." Mr. Holmes nodded. "My turn. You had returned from Afghanistan and are on disability which accounts for your limp. Not only do you have a limp in your leg but your right shoulder is inhibited by that war. Your parents are dead and you have no other family. You wanted to distract yourself from your current situation by gambling. Although, you nearly got shot again because of a debt from an unsavory person. Also, you lived here."

"That's..." My jaw dropped. I could not believe what I heard. Was he a psychic? I did not know very many people in London and I should have remembered him before.

"Astounding? Amazing? Incredible?"

"How did you do that?"

"Your cane is of the type given to veterans of the war." He said as he tossed the cane to me. I caught it and he continued, "You held your right arm back indicating a wounded shoulder. You have no one to turn to and that is why you were forced to live in this retched place and yet you have enough money for a more decent place even with a paltry pension. I heard on the streets that a doctor was nearly killed from a bad debt who matches your description. The gravel on your shoes match this area and you came here."

"You make it sound so..."

"Elementary?"

"Yes." I had never met an such an arrogant man in my life. Yet, he was quite fascinating. He was kind enough to give me back my cane despite the fact that I had lost the wager. At least I would not have to spend any more money hanging around him. "I am a man of my word, so I will aide you."

"Excellent. You will not regret this, Dr. Watson. Follow me." He hailed a carriage and we entered it.

Minutes passed and Mr. Holmes just sat there with his eyes closed. I stared at him and finally, I had to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Observing. I make it a habit to memorize every odor on every street when I make my travels."

"Why?"

"Shhhh..." He hushed me and focused on his job. I decided to leave him alone after that. The carriage stopped and I saw a fairly nice building. "Here we are." Mr. Holmes opened the door and I found myself in a dark flat. I could smell the stench of different chemicals all around me. There are cages of rats both alive and dead on the table. For some reason, there was a slipper on the mantle and a skull right next to it.

"Where are we?" I asked as I side stepped a pile of papers.

"My home. This way." Mr. Holmes took my hand and led me right to a decent sized room with a kitchen table in the middle. I stepped back in horror at the sight of a pale white dead man on the table. His eyes were wide open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"What is that?" I screamed as I grabbed Mr. Holmes' s arm and pointed at it. I had seen my fair share of dead bodies in worst condition but I was not expecting to see one in a middle of a home.

"That is a corpse. Really, Dr. Watson, a war veteran should be used to seeing the dead."

"Not in the middle of a flat!" I seethed. Mr. Holmes was deranged enough to keep a dead body around where anyone could get all sorts of diseases. He didn't even bother to cover it up with a sheet. I wanted to leave right away.

"That is the body for you to examine. He was murdered due to some unknown circumstances and I needed your opinion."

"So you are of Scotland Yard?" I asked trying to find some sense of logic to Mr. Holmes' peculiar reasoning.

"Of course not! They are just a group of fools who run around stumbling. I am an unofficial consulting detective."

"There is no such title."

"Not before I invented it. Inspector Lestrade told me that I need a licensed doctor to deduce the cause of death and that is why I got you. You better hurry before Lestrade notice the body is missing."

I could not believe my ears. Mr. Holmes had the gall to take a possible murder victim right from Scotland Yard. What kind of maniac would do such a thing? How did he manage such a feat? "But I don't even have a practice!" I exclaimed.

"But you are a doctor."

"Technically."

"Then, be a doctor."

I felt a little out of my league. I am a doctor, not a police officer. Still, I had given my word and it would not be the first time I was doing a little shady. I studied the body carefully. He has a rash as well as his fingernails were of a different color. "I will need to do a Marsh test to confirm it but I believe he was poisoned by arsenic."

"Excellent."

"Mr. Holmes, here is your dinner," An older woman walked in and saw the dead body. "How much longer will that body be there?"

"Not much longer, Nanny."

"Nanny?" With all that I had seen, I suppose I should not be surprised at the idea that Mr. Holmes has a nanny to watch over him.

"Dr. Watson, this is Mrs. Hudson, my landlady, who had made it her mission to go beyond her typical role." Mr. Holmes introduced as he glared at her.

"Someone has to make sure you don't kill yourself. Are you going to eat this today or not?"

Mr. Holmes ignored her and just stared at the body. I turned towards Mrs. Hudson. "Is he always like this?" I whispered.

"Yes. Would you like to eat? You look like you haven't eaten in days."

I was stunned by her generosity. Despite her troubles with Mr. Holmes, she was still kind enough to extend a helping hand to me. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all. He doesn't like to eat." Mrs. Hudson glared at Mr. Holmes and then smiled at me. "Come on, now."

She took my hand and led me to the kitchen. I sat down and she started to put a feast in front of me; soup, chicken, and bread. My mouth watered as Mrs. Hudson put a napkin around my neck and I started to eat. To my embarrassment, I shoveled in my food like there was no tomorrow. Most of my past meals since arriving back in London had consisted of scraps. I paused to see Mrs. Hudson staring at me. I swallowed my food and bowed my head. "Forgive me. It is delicious."

"Not at all. Eat all you want." Mrs. Hudson just smiled warmly at me.

"Mr. Hudson is a very lucky man."

"Mr. Hudson is dead."

I stopped my shoveling. I had made a horrible gaff. "I'm... I'm so terribly sorry."

"Don't apologize. I suppose it is rather odd for a woman to handle an entire building by herself." Mrs. Hudson glared where Mr. Holmes were.

I was confused at why someone like Mrs. Hudson would allow an odd man like Mr. Holmes to stay in an apartment. If it was clean, it would look rather nice. Perhaps, they have an intimate relationship despite the age differences but they act more like mother and son.

"Mrs. Hudson! I must speak to you!"

Mrs. Hudson took a deep breath, she bowed her head. "Excuse me." She marched off.

Perhaps, Mr. Holmes just pay her a lot of money to compensate for the unorthodox manners. I closed my eyes as I tried to think of what to do. What can I do? I really didn't want to die but I have no place to go. I am tired of wasting my life away.

Mrs. Hudson ran back in and I finished my meal. "May I ask, do you have any faults?"

"Well, I have a penchant for gambling and I have a bit of a temper. I also have a service revolver. May I ask, why are you asking?"

Mrs. Hudson studied me. "You seem decent enough. You served in the Army correct?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, you will make a wonderful tenant."

I was stunned to say the least. Mrs. Hudson was kind but I cannot add to her burden. "Ma'am, you must understand. I have no money to offer you."

"Mr. Holmes said you gave him the money."

I could feel the blood rush to my face in anger. How dared that Holmes tricked me and force me to stay here without asking me? "Excuse me, Mrs. Hudson," I stomped over to Mr. Holmes and grabbed his jacket. "I AM NOT A CHARITY CASE!"

He stared at me and asked, "What is a charity case?"

I was perplexed. How could such an intelligent man just be so insane? "Did you just pay Mrs. Hudson to make me your roommate?"

"It is your money and I was allowed to spend it as I see fit. Mrs. Hudson wanted me to get a roommate and a doctor. You seemed interesting enough so I want you as my roommate."

"You didn't even ask me!"

Mr. Holmes just frowned and then nodded. "Oh, yes, I suppose that I had forgotten something. Would you like to live with me?"

I just stared at him. I could not even utter a proper response. "Why do you think after you took from me, tricked me, and made me examine a body you stole-"

"Borrowed."

"Stole from Scotland Yard that I would want to live with a mental case man like you?"

"It is better than suicide."

"I-I..."

"You seemed to be a man of a quick temper but rather than scour the streets looking for me after our encounter, you chose to go straight home. You have a pistol there from your past service. You intended it to use it on yourself, aren't you?"

"I... I had contemplated it." I confessed. To say it out loud had made the thoughts in my mind all too real. I had thought about killing myself. I wanted to leave this world of pain and lost potential forever.

"I was not sure why you had gone back to your place. You don't seem to be the type of man to kill someone. However, suicide, however sinful, seems logical."

"I just wanted it to end. I know that I should not waste my money on card games but... I could not resist on my own."

I felt Mr. Holmes' hand on my shoulder. "I can help you if you let me."

It was a gamble but the odds are in my favor. This situation might be more beneficial to me than my previous one. "I can stay for a while. You already paid for my rent anyway."

He shook my hand. "You will not regret it."

And that is how I started to stay with Sherlock Holmes.

The End


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